Everyday
by homeostatis
Summary: Life is a win and lose thing, especially in the Akatsuki. A day in the life of two missing nin. [Sasori and Deidara centric]


**Everyday**

by. _homeostatis_

* * *

Disclaimer: Um, it's like this… 

A/N: First off: big thanks to my darling beta Cal for braving my un-edited work. Never let it be said that you did not face danger in your young age. Second: there're a ton of uncomfortable innuendos in this story so… enjoy. :)

--

"Deidara… how many times have I told you not to waste our toothpaste just because your bloodline limit can't clean itself?" The dangerous tone left no allowances for back-talk, but Deidara still managed _somehow_.

"But it gets cavities… un," He whined in turn. Sasori muttered something nasty about how someone's fucking _hands_ could get cavities and resumed attempting to squeeze some of the remaining toothpaste out of the flat tube. He wouldn't punish his frustrating subordinate just yet. At any rate, it was too early to use chakra. _Far_ too early.

Deidara only muttered back about the price of art and strong morning breath, taking up his own toothbrush and only recently noticing that his partner had command of the empty tube.

And so the first few minutes of the morning passed for the two Akatsuki, punctuated only by a single explosive argument over the remaining toothpaste.

Sasori won due to his infallible logic (i.e. punching Deidara's lights out).

--

Deidara often kicked, tossed, and turned at night, so it was with this argument that Sasori attempted to force the blond into fixing their futons.

(The verb here is _attempted_.)

"I have a hard time rolling them up, un. My hands like to chew on the mattresses." That was his excuse every morning. Kicking at his pillow and blanket, Deidara pronounced them fixed before attempting to stalk back into the bathroom to get dressed.

(Once again, the verb.)

Sasori grabbed his partner's arm, hair and temper slightly frazzled from the battle that just took place in the bathroom. "You spend most of the night on my futon anyway. _You_ sleep in it._ You_ fix it."

The blond responded by leaning in suggestively close and smiling smugly into his danna's irritated face, "Mmmm, if you put it that way danna… un…"

Deidara won by means of uncomfortable innuendos.

--

The act of changing into their uniforms was difficult enough as they usually had to do it in the same room. Today, it was made more challenging by the fact that Deidara accidentally swapped one of his own for Sasori's. Really, they needed to get nametags for those things.

"You're an idiot," Sasori deadpanned, yanking on the stuck cloak and hoping it wouldn't tear while they were trying to pry it off the blond. Kakuzu probably wouldn't let him spend on another one and Sasori's only other spare uniform still needed some repair.

He yanked again, causing Deidara to yelp in pain.

"Danna! Careful, un!" he demanded, feeling the tight cloth pinch the skin around his shoulders. It was just his luck that his upper body was slightly larger than his partner's.

The redhead ignored him, giving the cloak another long pull and releasing it when _it _refused to release Deidara. This sudden action caused the blond to topple over painfully with his hands still stuck in the air; Sasori only stared at him in contempt, though Deidara couldn't see his look trapped as he was.

Suddenly, a realization came to him just as Deidara re-instigated his angry muttering (_his stomach was getting cold, damn it_). Scowling at himself for not realizing it earlier (but blaming it on Deidara anyway) he said, "Use the zipper dumbass."

The reply he received was a long excuse he couldn't, for the life of him, understand through the cloth.

"_What?_" asked Sasori, irritated.

"I SAID," Came the muffled voice, "That my hands are _stuck_. They don't bend, un." It sounded pouty at best.

Sasori let loose a heavy, obviously frustrated sigh and kicked Deidara to the side. The latter fell over, helpless to his partner stepping on his chest and yanking him up into a semi-sitting position. It was rather awkward for Deidara and his back muscles but none of his complaining kept Sasori from reaching into the bunched up fabric and pulling the zipper open.

And no matter how much he claimed that he'd kicked Deidara down because he _felt like it_, Sasori knew it was because he was too short to actually reach over the blond's outstretched arms.

Although that embarrassment didn't even come close to what he felt when an over-enthusiastic Deidara sat up and caused Sasori to topple off his stomach.

He may have landed on his feet, but seeing the infamous Akasuna no Sasori perform a flailing-skipping motion was always worth a good laugh.

Deidara won due to Sasori's embarrassment.

Then Sasori won by utilizing his poison needles.

--

But in the end only real winner was Zetsu because Sasori got scolded for poisoning his partner and Deidara had to go and buy the cure off of the plant-man before the rashes reached his throat and cut off his air supply.

Breakfast was always an interesting affair. It was interesting because other than being known as the hour Sasori would spend _out_ of Hiruko and when Zetsu would bring his own meals to the table (they let him cook on occasion, yes, but his idea of a healthy, balanced meal often escaped their purist, non-cannibalistic minds), it was also known to most of them as the point in time before the partners left to complete their respective missions.

It was the time when members said their goodbyes and demanded their money back in case the other tried to leave for the other world before settling finances. It was a time when the teams got to relax and wake up before they had to fling themselves at death, hoping they'd survive to do it all again the next morning. But, most importantly, it was the time when one's mad ninja skillz came into play because no one was going to spare you a second thought if you didn't defend your own waffles.

Indeed, it was a dog eat dog world in the life of an S-class nukenin.

And Sasori was good at this. He'd survived over 15 years as an actively wanted criminal (and a few more given up as a lost cause on the bingo books) so one could say that his survival skills were top notch. He was one of the best, one of the elite; he was Akasuna no Sasori for goodness' sake.

It was just too bad that he was a puppet master, because his defense sucked.

Deidara withdrew his arm, holding a dripping slice of waffle (his prize for risking his neck) and trying to eat it before his danna inevitably attempted to get revenge.

He stuffed it into his mouth, laughing a victorious "haph!" and almost spraying his seatmate (Itachi) with his spoils.

Scowling, Sasori withdrew, recognizing a lost mission when he saw one. He scoffed and muttered angrily about idiotic blond brats, picking at what was left of his breakfast. Oh, his partner was going to get it… he was going to get a cleaver through the lung and get his "art" (pft, _art_) stuffed down his throat so hard his mother was going to… _mutter… mutter… mutter…_

Waiting until Deidara started picking on the plate of the Uchiha next to him (why he didn't just ask Zetsu to cook him some more, no one ever cared to ask), Sasori subtly maneuvered his fork under Deidara's arm and…

Snagged some of his bacon.

The blond, sensing something was off, immediately whipped around to stare (in horror) at his partner. Sasori merely shot him a lazy smirk, stuffed the piece into his mouth, and _poked Deidara on his arm with the fork_.

Without missing a beat, Deidara poked him back (a little harder, just in case the wood got in the way) and pouted. Incensed, the puppet master stared at him warningly and poked back. _Hard_.

And thus they continued, having a silent fork war as opposed to wasting food on one another and pissing off Sir Leader who was having his morning coffee at the other end of the kitchen.

Next to Deidara, Itachi—ever the opportunist—subtly stole the last vestiges of food on the blonds' plate. At the rate he and Sasori were going, it didn't look like they were going to eat anyway. Besides, next to Sasori Kisame was mirroring his partner's moves; none of the artists were going to get to eat the rest of their breakfast, apparently.

That was, after-all, why Kisame and Itachi kept Sasori and Deidara next to one another during meal times. Who said the two of them didn't have good teamwork?

Kisame and Itachi won due to an "unforeseen" fork-fight.

--

On the rare occasion that they didn't have a mission awaiting them that day, Sasori and Deidara would spend the rest of their morning tending to their wounds (Deidara) or polishing themselves (Sasori); the fork stab wounds were often very painful for both parties albeit in different ways. They actually contemplated requesting the constant use of spoons—because while they _could_ still use them as weapons, it would take a bit more effort on both their parts— in the base (a rather good idea around mentally unstable psychopaths like Hidan and Kakuzu and Zetsu and Kisame and Itachi and Deidara and Sasori and Sir Leader and that member with a flower in his or her hair and… wait, that was the whole group…), but didn't want to because asking that would mean acknowledging their daily fights.

Which was _so_ not… _un_, as Deidara so elegantly put it.

However, this blatant show of pride also meant nursing breakfast wounds and trying not to look like they bore any. Of course, everyone at the table knew (they had _eyes_ didn't they? Maybe a little more than damaged goods for Itachi, but they still worked somewhat) but Sasori and Deidara never felt any actual need to entertain their team mates more than they already did. Hidan was usually in hysterics anyway. Kisame chuckling never helped.

So this led to them spending the rest of the morning in their shared quarters, Deidara with his back to Sasori and Sasori with his back to the wall. This meant that the blond often faced the wall, but he knew his partner would never attack him from behind unprovoked.

Unless it was with a fork. Deidara was still bitter over that.

Lithe as he was Deidara had a difficult time reaching over his shoulder to get at the wound there. Of course, he contemplated just leaving it but figured that he didn't want to die of tetanus; it didn't really look like their forks were properly sterilized.

"Why'd you have to stab me in the back danna, _unnn_?" whined Deidara, accidentally scraping the wound with a nail when his hands proved too short to reach properly. He frowned slightly, not really fazed by the pain or the fresh squirt of blood.

"You buried the fucking fork into my _leg_ brat," was his answer.

And they left it at that.

For a few moments; surprisingly, Sasori spoke up first.

"Oi, brat."

"… Danna, un?"

"I'll fix that gash if you get the nick in my shoulder. You got carried away, like always."

"I do _not_, un." But just like that, Deidara stood up and let his danna fix the wound on his back. In return, he took the sandpaper and ran it along the puppet master's right shoulder until it evened out. He even polished it afterwards.

"Mmm, danna's back's so smooth, un." He rubbed his cheek on the wood, knowing that Sasori wouldn't appreciate his hands getting saliva all over his shoulders.

Sasori, completely unperturbed (Deidara was, if anything, unpredictable; sometimes he craved to touch someone, sometimes a light tap drove him to kill), shook his partner off. "Of course it's smooth you idiot," he scolded, smacking Deidara, "Now cut that out."

Giving a wounded little sniff and holding the cheek Sasori had ungraciously walloped, the blond pouted (cheerfully. Deidara was nothing if not cheerful), "Danna's being _uncharacteristically_ mean today. And I was complimenting his back, un. Unlike mine, his doesn't have an unsightly hole in it anymore." He _subtly_ hinted at the reason why the hole was gone by pointing at himself with his free hand.

_Great. He's feeling playful today._ Sasori wanted to sigh. It figured that Deidara would take advantage of his having invited him over. Silent, appreciative moments were hard to come by when Deidara pressed for his danna's attention and the blond seemed to need it an awful lot; Sasori couldn't help but feel a little smothered.

"Does it look like I need your damn compliments brat?" The red head stood, slipping on his uniform. Behind him, Deidara kicked out and lay down on the floor with his arms behind his head.

"I was just being nice, un." He grinned, eyeing his partner upside down, "Just because your art form is completely misguided doesn't mean it's not pretty."

"It's just like you to understand art to be the complete opposite of what it really is." Sasori didn't even turn around to address Deidara; he was kneeling down in front of Hiruko, checking the puppet efficiently before sliding into it. His voice was muffled, but it carried well even from within the puppet, "Now shut up. I have a few things to work on."

Thus saying, Sasori-in-Hiruko turned and headed towards the door. He had a few puppets that needed mending and that would be a far more productive use of his time than philosophizing about art with Deidara.

Only… Deidara didn't really seem to think so.

And he made this known by sitting on his danna's puppet, exactly on the tip of the puppet's hump. Sasori couldn't reach him, nor could he move or get out. Damn.

"Danna doesn't spend enough time with me, un." Deidara whined, poking the top of Hiruko's head playfully.

In the end, neither won. It took a well aimed strike from Hiruko's scorpion tail to get Deidara to roll off the puppet's back, but the tip accidentally scratched the shell when it hit. Sasori _almost_ killed him.

--

They always argued like this after lunch. On the dot, as soon as the dishes were in the sink and whoever was assigned was doing them, they began their arguing as if they'd prepared for it. Sometimes they were instigated by Sasori. Most of the times they were started by Deidara.

Today, they both started it, having simultaneously yelled out "What you did yesterday was _not_ art!" where only Deidara's customary "un" broke the chorus. The subject of discussion was the fact that they'd gotten into each other's way the previous day, having attempted to practice their personal art forms on one body. Needless to say, Deidara had won that round and Sasori had been _pissed off_. The dead Grass shinobi had a special sealing jutsu he could have used for crying out loud!

However, while this was infinitely known as "Sasori-Deidara happy bitching hour", it was also known as "break time" for the rest of the organization and, thus, those that treasured their quiet time did their best to quell the sea of arguments. After all, it was very difficult to watch the fishing channel or to catch up on the stock market while two people were _loudly _bickering about the intricacies of their respective art forms.

So far, the squabbling duo had already received two death threats, three curses, a dare, and a bribe. And that was just from Kisame who was attempting (there's that verb again) to enjoy his hour in front of the TV without Itachi—who, in turn, was in the kitchen making a soapy mess of their dishes; the Uchiha was never very good at chores— there to demand he change the channel every five minutes. Just because he was going blind didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy the different colors flashing before his eyes. Or so the genius said.

Kakuzu, who was currently mourning a .5 drop in his oil company's stocks, decided to give it a shot. "The two of you shut up before I sew your backs together."

It didn't even have an exclamation point.

As well it should have because the only answer he received was a loud "And I'll turn you into art while you're sleeping, un!" and a flat "What the brat said." So much for that.

Just as he was about to make good on his threat, Hidan suddenly made a loud scoffing noise and covered his ears with his hands, "Fuck, can't those two just fucking shove it?"

Kakuzu answered him with silence and a dull-eyed glare.

"They probably only argue that much just for the fucking excuse to have make-up sex afterwards," Hidan grouched, hands still clutching at his ears, "Fucking bastards." Too bad he had his ears covered though because otherwise he would have been able to tell how loud he'd been. And that Sasori and Deidara had simultaneously stopped talking (to slit each others throats) only moments before his loud pronouncement.

Chuckling, Kakuzu won that round due to Sasori and Deidara's vengeful wrath.

--

Because their lunchtime arguments occurred at an hour when both their minds were more-or-less awake, neither Sasori nor Deidara ever had to patch themselves up afterwards. While the same couldn't be said for any of the other Akatsuki (_coughHidancough_), it didn't really matter as no one had been killed. Kakuzu had been a little irritated that his partner got his limbs blown and sawed off before their afternoon mission but they'd left all the same (if Hidan could curse that colorfully for a full five minutes, he was certainly healthy enough to go out and fight) although the pair of artists chose not to emerge from their room until the figurative storm passed.

Not that they were _scared_, per se, but they couldn't really afford any new limbs of their own. Sasori especially; Konoha timber was so hard to come by these days.

Instead, they spent the remainder of the afternoon holed up in their room (again), pointedly ignoring each other; or rather, Sasori was ignoring Deidara in favor of furthering his work on one of his damaged puppets, Deidara was just mashing a piece of clay into a shape that was slowly starting to look like a bird.

It was quiet, peaceful even. Companionship didn't come cheap among S-Class criminals.

Sasori appreciated the fact that Deidara was being quiet that afternoon. Deidara was thankful his danna didn't try to sell him out to Kakuzu who'd come knocking just five minutes before.

Peace. Complete and utter peace.

Which led to a bored Deidara.

Which led to the completion of the small bird in his hands.

Deidara won because he escaped while Sasori was too shocked to react.

--

Dinner was usually a silent affair as it was the meal that missed the most members. As a rule Zetsu (or whoever deigned to cook that evening) left out a plate of _something_ (hopefully edible) and everyone just came and got what they wanted when they wanted it.

Although highly discouraged due to the inevitable attraction the oil and whatnot would have on the resident pests (and they didn't just mean Deidara and Hidan), many of the partners ate in their rooms. Some of the more tired ones ate at the kitchen, standing up or passed out on their food. Some of them weren't really there at all; having been assigned a mission they either weren't going to return from for a while, or at all if it came down to it.

This little system, however, meant that anyone could get as much food as they wanted, whether the others had gotten their share or not.

Thus, Sasori's current state.

He had tried to dissuade Deidara from stealing the entire pan (it was barbecue night), his disgust at the boy attempting to eat that much overriding any concern that a few of the other teams wouldn't be able to eat after their missions. Deidara had merely "defended" himself. The darkened, burnt edges of Sasori's face were enough evidence of how the blond ninja went about doing it.

Deidara was going to die.

Slowly.

With poison.

And a puppet sticking things where there shouldn't _be_ things.

And maybe some soap.

Now if Sasori could just _get a hold of the damn brat…_

If anything, Deidara won by having exploded Sasori without any severe repercussions on his person.

But Sasori won too because it was at that moment that Kakuzu and Hidan arrived hungry, tired, and in no mood to have Deidara run off with their dinner. It may not have been at his hands, but the two immortals really were the best at torture and interrogation.

--

Once again, the act of brushing their teeth was a moment worth noting. Often tired from the days activities (bickering, eating, bickering some more), the two would merely mash up next to each other at the sink, both vying for space while brushing their teeth. Deidara would shove at his danna a bit to spit in the sink; Sasori would nudge at his blond partner to get at the tap.

To an outsider it would've been amusing; as it was, their reflections would've been laughing at them had they been capable of doing so. Deidara with his hair bundled up in a wet towel on his head and smelling of shampoo clinched the image. Sasori, red hair dripping and towel around his shoulders was a little much (he worried about the water staining his wooden body but that's another story entirely).

Overall, they looked like two young ladies forced to share bathroom time. They acted a like it too, but we digress; their catfights are none of our concern.

"Brat…" Sasori growled warningly through the thick lather in his mouth (they'd stolen Itachi's toothpaste that afternoon). He used his shoulder to push Deidara aside, taking advantage of the blond's "momentary lapse in balance" to rinse his mouth.

"Yes _danna_?" Deidara responded through clenched teeth. He'd accidentally pushed the toothbrush too far into his left hand's mouth when Sasori bumped him. Now, the hand was gagging and Deidara felt a little nauseated himself.

"Nothing," The redhead sounded smug. He flicked his toothbrush dry, smirking and replacing it on his side of the sink. Deidara wrinkled his nose at him and Sasori responded by turning his back on the blond, hands going to resume towel-drying his hair.

Sasori won, if only because he got the last word.

But Deidara won too because he used Sasori's toothbrush on his other hand and left some of the clay on it for the puppet master to find the next morning.

Although Itachi puzzling over the disappearance of his toothpaste the next morning was also pretty damn funny.

--

Deidara curled up when he slept, Sasori noticed. He would start out the evening very straight and rigid, like a narrow rock, slowly easing up and growing more fitful by the hour.

The Akatsuki often joked that Deidara was no good at taijutsu but Sasori knew better than anyone how hard the bomb specialist's feet were when they came crashing down on his face in the middle of the night.

He would often grunt and try to shift the blond, although that only ever worked for a few minutes before he was off kicking and squirming and trying to cuddle again.

Cuddling; always with the cuddling. Deidara constantly seemed to be searching for some kind of warmth in his sleep and, had he been awake, Sasori would have told him to just use the damn blanket he'd kicked away during the night. The blond also whined subconsciously when he was left alone on the futon and Sasori wanted to know exactly when it was he'd adopted a child. _He _certainly hadn't been told of the new arrangements.

But he wonders though, why Deidara always sought to squirm into his mattress and sleep there when the puppet master—a man made of nothing more than wood and chakra and morbid remnants of his body long lost to time—released as much heat as the floor did. He also wonders why he allows it as often as he does.

Although he supposes that he should know the answer to that question already. He'd always known; but Sasori is a stubborn bastard (always was) and refuses to acknowledge it.

Either way, other than that first night (when he discovered that Deidara _was_ a pretty good shinobi, even in his sleep), he never really tried to move away.

And because of that, Deidara ultimately won in the end.

But only because Sasori would never admit that he found comfort in the company of another curled up on his futon.

--

A/N: I don't see why I can't write fluff that doesn't end in yaoi because that's obviously what I just did. If you want to take it as a pairing, then go ahead (I like to cater to both sides of the argument… _cough_) but the relationship I just wrote is purely platonic. _kicks a "SasoxDei OTP!" sign under her bed_


End file.
